


maybe in time, in time

by isengard



Category: K-pop, Monsta X (Band), No.MERCY (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Light Angst, M/M, fake futurefic, fake kidfic, for the most part kinda, gunheon ebooks, idk what this is im sorry, me crying in the distance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5100698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isengard/pseuds/isengard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But this thing they have - whatever it is between them, this half-planned, half-joking <em>after</em>, for whatever reason, it sticks.  And Jooheon can’t help but wonder if he’s serious about it after all, if between the lines, Gunhee is too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe in time, in time

**Author's Note:**

> for naomi, without whom i would not have survived any of this
> 
> i started this fic before the final episode of no.mercy with the intent to make it a canon-compliant, open-ended sort of fandom opus, ...and as you all know, events transpired as they did, so i dropped it for a while. and now, due to a resurgence of feelings and focusing ability, i'm finishing and posting it. apologies in advance for any writing inconsistency.

It’s not like Jooheon never thinks about his future with Gunhee - he doesn’t think about it that _much_ , they’re so young, but he does think about it - there are just some aspects of it that he’s never paid much thought to, and that could be why this is hitting him so hard. 

It could also just be that Gunhee is really fucking cute with little kids.

“Actually, I _love_ dolls,” he’s saying to the little girl. “Come on, come show me which one’s your favorite.”

They’re all at a church outside the city, there’s a big community project and Starship had sent them all down. He and Gunhee are on daycare duty, along with some of the other trainees. Unsurprisingly, Kihyun has the most kids around him, but Gunhee’s had a scrappy little toddler in mismatched shoes attached to his leg since the moment they arrived.

It’s doing funny things to Jooheon’s heart.

“Purple doll,” she tells him, holding up some kind of dinosaur. “Mine.”

“I like the green one,” he tells her, pulling out a horse.

She frowns. “Green mine,” she says, snatching it away. “More? Please?”

“We should probably save some dolls for the other kids,” he laughs, beaming at Jooheon like he’s having the time of his life. “Here, help me pick. We’ll just take one more and that’ll be my doll.”

“Hmmm.” She studies the bin, seemingly deep in thought. Gunhee can’t take his eyes off her, and Jooheon can’t take his eyes off Gunhee.

“Blue doll,” she announces, reaching into the pile and brandishing a dog at him. “Play dolls now? Play with me?”

He doesn’t have much attention to spare after that, but it’s hard to miss the way she cries when they have to leave. Gunhee hugs and kisses her and makes her promise to be good for the teachers, and Jooheon feels like he might burst.

**

They squash together in the van on the way back to the dorm, trying not to touch more closely until everyone around them is asleep. Seokwon nods off first, then Kihyun, then Hoseok, and Jooheon feels Gunhee’s pinky finger wind around his as soon as Minkyun’s eyes drift closed.

“I can’t imagine having twins,” Jooheon says quietly. “Let alone triplets. Those three were a handful.”

“I couldn’t tell them apart at all,” Gunhee admits. “I don’t understand people who dress identical kids the same. You’re just asking to get tricked.”

“Well,” Jooheon says around a yawn. “It’s cute, at least.”

Gunhee clasps their hands together, taps out a rhythm between Jooheon’s fingers on his thigh. “Today was fun. I’ve missed kids.”

“I didn’t know,” Jooheon starts to say. He wonders if this will sound rude, and then decides that Gunhee will forgive him if it is. “I didn’t even know you liked kids so much.”

“Seriously?” Gunhee gives him an incredulous look. “Come on. Who doesn’t like kids?”

“I don’t know.” Jooheon’s always liked kids, he’s sure he has, but maybe they’ve just never talked about it.

It seems wrong that they’ve never talked about it. Jooheon isn’t completely sure why. But it seems like the kind of thing you get to talking about, when you’re as wrapped up in someone as he is in Gunhee, even if you’re young, even if the only time you can really have intimate conversations like this is leaning up against each other in a quiet van, or sneaking into each other’s beds at night, or propping each other up after too many deliriously late nights in the studio. They’ve talked about other things - they’ve talked about everything, it seems like. Jooheon can’t believe there’s anything he doesn’t know about Gunhee.

“So you want to have kids, then?” he asks, without thinking.

Gunhee goes still next to him. Jooheon doesn’t register it at first, just listens comfortably to the sound of his breathing, until he realizes that Gunhee has turned and is staring at him.

“What?”

“Did you mean that, like,” Gunhee starts to say. “Uh. Nevermind. I don’t know. Yes?”

Jooheon feels a lot more awake suddenly. “Oh,” he says. “Me too.”

Gunhee looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

“ _What_?”

“That’s just - ” Kihyun stirs suddenly, and Gunhee pauses and lowers his voice again. “That’s a big question to just spring on someone. Why are you even thinking about it?”

Why is he even thinking about it? They just spent the entire day surrounded by children, who wouldn’t be thinking about it? 

“Is it that weird?” Jooheon asks, feeling self-consciousness creep under his skin. “I don’t mean _now_. Just - in the future, you know.”

“Like, _way_ in the future,” Gunhee says. “We’re only twenty.”

“Sorry I asked,” Jooheon mutters. He shouldn’t’ve assumed Gunhee would be thinking about the same things as him. Maybe he is weird.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Gunhee says, pressing obnoxiously close. “It’s okay, I get it. You’re baby-crazy. It’s kind of cute.”

Jooheon rolls his eyes.

Gunhee grins conspiratorially and tucks his chin into the hinge of Jooheon’s jaw so that his mouth is up against his ear. “Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I won’t tell anyone you want to have my babies.”

Jooheon shivers, involuntarily, and immediately hates himself for it.

Gunhee says, “Ooh.”

“Let’s drop the subject,” Jooheon says, face burning. “I don’t want to have your babies.”

It sounds pathetically insincere, even to his own ears. What the hell. Jooheon really wasn’t imagining the conversation turning out like this.

“Well, not right now,” Gunhee says, in a mock understanding tone. “But maybe down the line, if science progresses and you still feel the urge - ”

“Oh, shut up,” Jooheon says.

**

He’s a little surprised when he feels the tap at his shoulder in bed, but scoots over for Gunhee to get in anyways. They usually only get transit cuddle time or after-hours cuddle time, never both. Not that he’s complaining.

“You okay?” he asks, reaching automatically for Gunhee’s hands, his shoulders, his everything.

“I’m great,” Gunhee says, cold fingers grabbing at his shirt, tugging them close together. “We don’t have morning practice tomorrow, and Kwangji hyung’s at the studio all night.”

Kwangji’s their only roommate who’s a light sleeper. Jooheon sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“I just really wanted to kiss you,” Gunhee says in a rush, and Jooheon doesn’t know how they can both still be like this, nervous and hesitant when it’s been months since he first pulled Gunhee onto the narrow mattress with him and they fumbled with boundaries and words they didn’t know and places they were afraid to touch.

He licks his lips, and Gunhee grins.

**

“You really never think about it?” Jooheon asks. Their legs are tangled under the sheets, his arm is thrown over Gunhee’s shoulders. Gunhee’s pants are somewhere on the floor.

It’s a really fortunate thing that Yoosu sleeps like the dead.

Gunhee nudges their foreheads together sleepily. “‘Bout what?”

“Having kids.” It’s _not_ that weird. Some of the sunbaes had been talking about it too, before dinner. One of their choreography teachers’ wife is due soon. Jooheon’s concluded that it’s a perfectly normal thing to wonder about.

It might be weird if he was thinking about having kids with a specific person, but Jooheon can’t say for sure that that’s what he’s doing.

“Oh, right,” Gunhee says, and Jooheon can feel the ghost of a chuckle in his voice. “No, I do think about it. Of course I do.”

Jooheon waits.

“With my dad - you know, everything, like. I think about what I’d do differently.” Gunhee swallows. “Sometimes I think I shouldn’t, though. Like, what if I’m cursed because of him, or something.”

“That’s dumb,” Jooheon tells him. He lets his hand slip into the back of Gunhee’s hair. “I know you. You’re your mom’s son, not your dad’s. You’d never abandon anyone.”

“Mm,” Gunhee says. “Is that why you want to have my babies.”

“No,” Jooheon says.

A pause, and Jooheon wonders if Gunhee’s fallen asleep before he says, “How many do you want?”

“I’m not sure,” Jooheon says honestly. “Two or three? More than one, anyways.”

“I think two is good,” Gunhee murmurs. He taps his fingers against Jooheon’s chest. “Boys or girls? Or one of each?”

“One of each sounds good,” Jooheon muses. “Or maybe - two boys would be crazy. Maybe two girls. I’d like two girls.”

Gunhee snorts. “You just like being whipped,” he says. “I think - I think I definitely want a son. That’s what I think about the most, anyways.” His voice is so quiet Jooheon has to strain to hear. “I kind of feel like I owe it to my mom, or something. To teach my son to be a man, the way she did with me.”

His hand is over Jooheon’s heart. Jooheon wonders if he can feel how hard it’s beating.

“Sorry,” Gunhee says after a moment. “I’m just tired.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jooheon tells him. “I thought that was nice.”

“It was,” Gunhee agrees. “But we have to stop being all serious and mushy now.”

“Okay,” Jooheon says. “Wait. One last thing.”

Gunhee pulls back and gives him a suspicious look. “Are you pregnant.”

“I - Goddamnit,” Jooheon says, and pushes him off the bed.

He forgives him, though, when Gunhee rolls back on top of him five seconds later.

**

Music, Jooheon has learned, is like learning a language. You learn the basics, you learn the rules and how to break them, you learn how to tell stories, how to relate to people, how to understand and be understood. Rapping is half content and half delivery, and a lot of good rappers have more of one than the other, but all the great ones have both.

Jooheon wants the same thing everyone wants - he wants to be great.

It’s not an easy path to tread. Jooheon’s learning, but he’s not quite fluent. He’s worked out a formula for writing digestible lyrics, and those types of words come easily from him now, he sounds them out as he goes and barely has to revise. The lyrics he writes are good - not great - but they’re appealing, they’re punchy, they fit the song and the beat and his voice and his tone. He’s comfortable with words like these. The words that fill his notebooks are something else - something for a song he hasn’t written yet, something in a subtler, more personal language that he hasn’t fully learned to use. 

There’s a balance, he knows, to how much meaning and emotion you can put into a verse, how many truths you can fit in eight or twelve bars, how many of them will stand out and reach someone. Listening to other people’s lyrics, it bowls him over. He’s always trusted in music to tell him things he already knows but can’t express, those are the songs that’ve always stuck with him. The kinds of songs he wants to write.

There’s no formula for writing meaningful lyrics, he’s learned this the hard way. The songs he wants to write and the stories he wants to tell are still just out of his reach. They’re the incomplete passages in his notebooks, the not-quite-right phrases he struggles with and gives up on. The tapping of his pencil on his desk, the _how do I say this_ , the places where his feelings haven’t been translated into something he can put down on paper.

 _It’s soul_ , Gunhee’s said before. _You don’t know it, you just feel it_. 

Jooheon thinks sometimes that he feels too much, that his feelings are too big and his understanding of them is too small. None of the words he knows seem to fit them quite right; the word _love_ never seems to have enough latitude for all the different ways he feels it, the depths of it and the way his body reacts to it. He’s familiar with some of them - he knows the love he has for his mother, the love he has for the other trainees, the love he has for Gunhee as a brother, as a friend - and that’s when his pen stops, because there’s more, he knows there is, because he can _feel_ it, but his vocabulary can’t capture it. 

It’s frustrating, knowing what he wants to say, but not knowing how to say it.

Gunhee writes songs like he’s ripping them straight out of his heart. His notebooks look like props out of a horror movie, phrases violently scratched out, half the words upside down, grotesque doodles in the margins. They’re more than language, honestly. They’re art. Jooheon thinks they’re beautiful.

There are a lot of different types of love, Jooheon knows this. He feels them. He’s learned about them in words from other people, in languages he knows but doesn’t speak.

**

“This is Jiwoo,” their choreographer says, radiating pride as he props his three-week-old daughter up against the curve of his arm. “Isn’t she perfect?”

She has the tiniest hands and the biggest eyes Jooheon has ever seen. Everything about her is surreal, and he is terrified of her.

But then Kwangji wants to hold her, and then Yoonho, and then Kihyun and Hoseok and somehow even Hyunwoo has her coiled against his broad chest, where she immediately falls asleep.

“She does that a lot,” their choreographer says. “Babies do that. Just sleep, suddenly.”

“Seokwon does that,” Hoseok says, laughing. He nods to Jooheon. “Wanna hold her?”

Jooheon’s heart jumps to his throat, but some unknown instinct has his arms reaching out to take her. “Uh,” he says. “What do I…”

“Put one hand under her head and one under her butt,” Hoseok instructs him. “And then just - yeah, hold her against your chest. Use your whole arm.”

She is so _little_. Jooheon doesn’t understand this, it shouldn’t be allowed, he shouldn’t be able to touch something this small and fragile without training, like, years of it. His hands are unsurely placed and awkward around her sleeping form, and when she stretches one arm up suddenly, he almost has a heart attack.

“Can you guys watch her for a second?” the choreographer asks. “I have to take a call.”

 _Are you crazy?_ Jooheon wants to asks, but instead he says, “Sure.”

Her tiny fingers scratch down his shirt. She shudders and her face scrunches up and turns red, but before he has time to panic, it smooths out just as quickly and looks peaceful again.

“Is she really asleep?” Gunhee asks.

Jooheon shrugs one shoulder helplessly. “I think so?”

Gunhee peers down at her. “Wow.”

“How does anyone do this,” Jooheon mutters. “God. I can’t believe this is a person.”

“I can’t believe that came _out_ of a person,” Gunhee says.

“Dude.”

“What? It’s badass.” Gunhee laughs at his expression. “It is! Come on, we’ll never do anything as cool as that.”

He has a point. Jooheon feels overwhelmingly out of his league just holding her.

Gunhee leans closer to him. “Are you sweating?”

“Shut up,” Jooheon says. There’s something funny happening in his chest, his throat. Jiwoo flails one arm out again and when he reaches over to adjust her position in the cradle of his elbow, her tiny fist latches onto and closes around his finger.

Gunhee sucks in a breath, and Jooheon feels like it’s been pulled from his own lungs.

“Okay,” Gunhee says in a hushed tone. “That was pretty cute.”

“I feel like,” Jooheon stares down at her, tries to organize his feelings into words. “Like she just staked a claim on me or something. I think she owns me now.”

“She better share,” Gunhee says reproachfully, but there’s a smile in his voice, and he can’t take his eyes off of her either. “Shit, ok. I want to hold her too.”

It takes some maneuvering, but Jooheon manages to hand her over without jostling her too much. She looks even smaller somehow, tucked along the folds of Gunhee’s sweatshirt, her little pink hat standing out like a beacon against the thick black fabric. Jooheon reaches over and pulls it down carefully, covering her ears.

Gunhee murmurs something Jooheon can’t hear, gently rocking her in his arms.

“What’d you say?”

“I said,” Gunhee swallows. “Maybe a girl wouldn’t be so bad.”

It takes Jooheon a minute to remember, and then he can’t stop the smile from breaking across his face. If Gunhee wasn’t holding a baby, he’d punch him in the arm.

“Ah,” he says quietly, cheeks burning. “One of each, then.”

Gunhee doesn’t reply, just bites his lip and nods.

**

It’s not serious - for obvious reasons, like the fact that Jooheon can’t _actually_ have Gunhee’s babies. Jooheon tells himself it’s not serious, that it’s just an inside joke, that they’re young and everything is uncertain and they could be yanked apart at any moment. He’s not stupid enough to bank on happily ever after, anyways. He has a faint idea of what happens once the trainee period is over, and it’s usually not that.

His primary goals are the same - get good, get noticed, become successful. _Debut_. It’s the same thing he’s been planning all along, the neverending pull he feels toward the spotlight. Until Gunhee, he never really thought about the _after_ at all.

But this thing they have - whatever it is between them, this half-planned, half-joking _after_ , for whatever reason, it sticks. And Jooheon can’t help but wonder if he’s serious about it after all, if between the lines, Gunhee is too.

**

“Is Hyunwoo hyung okay?” Gunhee asks Hoseok backstage.

Hoseok laughs, shrugging out of his jacket. “He’ll be fine. One of the fans screamed at him to marry her - I don’t think she expected him to hear.”

Jooheon glances at Hyunwoo and chokes back a laugh. They’re all sweaty, but Hyunwoo is practically dripping, his face and neck bright red and shining with it. He looks somewhat dazed.

“Must’ve been the first time for him,” Hoseok grins. “Better get used to it.”

Gunhee and Jooheon look at each other, eyebrows raised.

“You think?” Jooheon asks.

“Well, yeah,” Hoseok says. “Once we debut. They’re not serious, they just want to get your attention. Just give them some fanservice, you know.”

“Hyung,” Jooheon calls to Hyunwoo. “I know you’re old, but I think it’s still a little early for you to be thinking about marriage.”

“Very funny,” Hyunwoo says, still red.

“You’re one to talk,” Hoseok says to Jooheon. “You and Gunhee are practically married already.”

He’s joking. Probably. Jooheon doesn’t actually know if the others know - he thinks a couple of them probably suspect, but it’s not something he’s particularly worried about. 

“What, this guy?” he scoffs, slinging his arm over Gunhee’s shoulders. They’re slighter than they used to be. “We’re not married. He’d make a terrible wife.”

“Why am I the wife?” Gunhee laughs, shoving at him. “You’re the one having the babies, you’re the wife.”

Jooheon means to fire back, but his words get caught in his throat. Gunhee looks like a real pop star in all his makeup and costume jewelry, the loose shirt that somehow accents the lean lines of his chest. Jooheon touches him so often that he’s never had to relearn or notice the ways Gunhee’s body has changed over the training period, but something about seeing him in his stage clothes is making him notice everything. He wants to take it all off, piece by piece, he wants Gunhee’s skin against his skin so badly all of a sudden he can barely think.

Hoseok looks between them concernedly. “Please don’t have any babies,” he says, pulling Jooheon out of his thoughts. “I haven’t forgotten about the time you left Yoonho at the movie theater.”

“Hyung,” Gunhee says, “That was _one_ time. And we went back for him.”

“When we realized we’d left him there,” Jooheon feels compelled to add. He still feels bad about that. Poor Yoonho.

“Whose side are you on, anyways?” Gunhee asks. “Sheesh.”

“Gotta stand by your man, Jooheonnie,” Hoseok grins.

“Uh, guys,” Hyunwoo says. “We gotta go. They need to clear this area.”

“Let me just collect my wife,” Gunhee says. He grabs Jooheon’s hand. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Hyunwoo looks vaguely disturbed. Hoseok laughs.

“You’re gross,” Jooheon tells him as they make their way back. “No one in their right mind would marry you.”

“Ah,” Gunhee says. His eyes are so bright. Jooheon is so, so doomed. “Good thing we’re both crazy.”

 _It’s your fault I’m crazy_ , Jooheon doesn’t say.

He’ll write it down later.

**

They’re less careful, that night. The shower water is still hot when Jooheon frantically presses Gunhee up against the tiles, touches every part of him as reverently as time will allow him to and then sets a new speed record for hand jobs. Gunhee bites him at his ear, his jawline, anchors his hands at his hips and sobs into his shoulder when he comes.

“I love you,” Jooheon says. He doesn’t mean to. It just slips out.

“I know,” Gunhee says, and kisses him hard on the mouth.

**

Jooheon’s almost asleep when he feels a familiar weight settle next to him on the mattress. He rolls over to find Gunhee hovering over him, face obscured by the darkness.

“Yeah?” Jooheon says. His throat is sore, his eyelids are falling closed even as Gunhee leans forward.

“I love you too,” Gunhee whispers hoarsely. He reaches out to brush his knuckles against Jooheon’s cheek.

Jooheon sighs out, breathes in the warmth of Gunhee’s skin. “I know.”

**

“Oh my God,” Gunhee says. He holds up the tiniest plaid snapback Jooheon has ever seen. “Look at this.”

Jooheon makes a face. “I liked the one that said ‘Swag’ better.”

“That’s because you’re hopeless,” Gunhee says. “This is cute as hell. Shit, I’d wear this.”

“It comes with matching overalls,” Jooheon says, pointing to the display. “I think you’d look adorable, for the record.”

Gunhee eyes them critically. “Those are pretty bad. The boy clothes aren’t as cute, have you noticed that? What’s the deal?”

“There’s not as much variety,” Jooheon agrees. “I guess they are babies. They probably don’t care.”

“Well,” Gunhee says. “Okay. Probably not. But don’t you want our kids to look cool?”

Jooheon does a cursory glance around to make sure no one is listening, but the other shoppers are all occupied. He’s not sure why they’re shopping for baby clothes - they’re _not_ , really, they’re just killing time because Yoosu and Minkyun wanted to go shopping and neither Jooheon nor Gunhee really need new clothes, or want anything that they can afford. Somehow, in between food courts and window browsing, they ended up here.

“Does Supreme make baby clothes?” he wonders. 

Gunhee snorts. “Let me just call Vasco hyung and ask,” he says. “Or I’ve got YDG on speed dial. He’ll know.”

“Good idea,” Jooheon grins. “Call Illionaire, maybe they want to donate some Versace footie pajamas.”

“Fuck that,” Gunhee says. “If anyone’s getting Versace pajamas around here, it’s me.”

“I think you probably have to go outside Hongdae for that,” Jooheon says. 

“Probably,” Gunhee says. His eyes settle on something to the left of Jooheon’s shoulder and widen. “Oh, no.”

Jooheon looks, and immediately turns away. “Don’t do it,” he warns. “We said no shoes. We _promised_ no shoes.”

“They’re so tiny,” Gunhee says plaintively. He walks slowly towards the display, pouting for effect. “Tiny Converse, look.”

“I’m not looking,” Jooheon says. He is looking. They _are_ tiny. 

“Tiny Timberlands,” Gunhee groans. “This is so bad. Why did you let me come over here.”

Jooheon holds up a pair of impossibly small white Nikes. “Dude.”

Gunhee puts a hand dramatically to his chest.

“What are you guys doing?”

Jooheon turns to see Yoosu and Minkyun standing behind them, looking equal parts bewildered and amused.

“Um,” Jooheon says. He doesn’t really have a good answer. He’s not going to say, _oh, just picking out baby clothes for our unborn child ten years in advance_. He’s not even sure that that’s what they’re doing.

He doesn’t really know what they’re doing.

Gunhee shrugs. “Just looking,” he says. “We were bored. Baby shoes are cute.”

“You know, they have grown-up shoes in the shop next door,” Yoosu says, trying not to laugh. “With big people sizes and everything.”

“Shut up,” Gunhee says, swatting him on the shoulder with a baby shoe. “We already looked there, anyways. You guys take too long.”

“He takes forever,” Minkyun says. “I almost fell asleep in the dressing room.” 

Jooheon laughs.

“Anyways,” Yoosu says. “We should get back. Did you guys get Hoseok hyung’s text?”

“I don’t have my phone,” Gunhee says.

“I haven’t been checking mine,” Jooheon says.

“Someone’s looking for you,” Yoosu says to Gunhee. “One of the managers.”

Gunhee blinks. “For me?”

“Why are they looking for him?” Jooheon asks.

“Beats me,” Yoosu says. “He just said to go back right away. So we should go.”

“Am I in trouble?” Gunhee wonders out loud as they walk back to the bus stop. He looks sideways at Jooheon. “Do you think…?”

He doesn’t have to finish the question. _Do you think someone found out about us?_

“No,” Jooheon says firmly, swallows all his fear and doubt. He doesn’t think the other members would care all that much if they knew - the company, that’s another story. “Come on, there’s no way you’re in trouble. We’ve been working our asses off.”

He squeezes Gunhee’s hand, but Gunhee shrugs him off with a small shake of his head.

“Let’s just get back,” he says.

Jooheon keeps his hands in his pockets the whole bus ride back, and tries not to let it bother him.

**

Gunhee doesn’t ask Jooheon to go to the funeral with him, and Jooheon doesn’t offer. He can count the number of times Gunhee’s talked about his father with him on one hand. He’s never pressed the issue, and he’s not going to start now.

Instead, he waits.

**

He doesn’t know when Gunhee’s getting back, so it’s a surprise when he goes into their room and finds him already there, still in his slacks and white shirt, sitting on the edge of his bed and staring at his shoes.

Halfway into reaching for him, Jooheon wonders if it’s the right thing to do. The memory of Gunhee’s hand pushing his away is still sharp in his mind. He sits on his own bed instead, uncertain.

He says, “How’d it go?”

Shitty thing to ask about a funeral, probably, but Jooheon isn’t sure what else to say.

“Uh,” Gunhee says. He lets out a long sigh. “I feel bad saying this, but. It was actually kind of nice.”

Jooheon twists the corner of his blanket in his hands. “Well,” he says. “That’s good, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Gunhee laughs weakly. “First time my family’s been all together since I can remember. And my dad...I feel like I finally got to know him, or something.” He rubs his eyes. “God, I’m so tired.”

“You don’t have to tell me about it now,” Jooheon says softly. Gunhee looks like he’s about to fall over. Jooheon doesn’t know if he’s allowed to catch him.

“It’s wild,” Gunhee says, finally looking up at him. “Everything’s the same here. I feel like - my entire life and all the shit I thought I knew got flipped around, and everything here is just. The same.”

Jooheon brings his feet up to the edge of the mattress and hugs his knees.

“What’s up with you?” Gunhee asks, after a moment. “Did something else happen?”

“No, nothing,” Jooheon tells him. “I just - I missed you.”

“I was gone for like, three days,” Gunhee says.

“Yeah,” Jooheon says. “I know.”

Gunhee looks at him. “We’re okay, right? You and me?”

The question catches Jooheon off guard, but once it sinks in, he doesn’t bother hiding his relief. If Gunhee wants them to be okay, that’s good enough for him. “Oh,” he says. “Yeah. Yeah, man, we’re okay.”

“Good.” Gunhee smirks. “Still want to have my babies?”

“Jesus.” Jooheon looks down at his lap. “Yes,” he says, feeling the tips of his ears turn red.

“Good,” Gunhee says again, smug.

It’s ridiculous for Jooheon’s heart to be hammering the way it is.

“Why are you sitting over there, anyways?” Gunhee asks. His expression is bravely neutral, but Jooheon can hear the smallest of wavers in his voice. “I’ve just had a major life tragedy, aren’t you supposed to be spooning the sadness out of me or something?”

And really, Jooheon doesn’t have to be asked twice.

**

“They put a camera in the _bathroom_ ,” Gunhee whispers. “Is that even legal?”

“That’s really creepy.” Jooheon shudders, making their knees knock together under the blanket. “No more showering together, I guess.”

“Well, hold on,” Gunhee says, pressing their fingertips together. “I don’t think we have to be that drastic about it.”

“But you just said - ”

“Minhyuk hyung told me he’s gonna put his shirt over it every time he showers,” Gunhee shrugs. “As long as we do that and stay quiet, it’ll be fine. I’m not worried about getting peeped on, it’s more like the principle of the thing, you know?” His fingers wind and unwind through Jooheon’s, absently playing a counting game against his chest. “Some things are sacred.”

“At least there’s not one in the toilet,” Jooheon says.

“Probably a wiring issue, like the rooms,” Gunhee mutters.

Jooheon rubs his forehead against Gunhee’s. Above them, Yoonho lets out a soft snore. 

“You ready for tomorrow?”

“No,” Gunhee says. “I barely had time to look at the script. Are you?”

Jooheon thinks he’s ready. They’re just introductory interviews - supposedly, anyways. He doesn’t have any idea how to act on camera, but none of the others do either, except maybe Hoseok and Minhyuk. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “It doesn’t seem that hard.”

“I wish they’d tell us what the program is about,” Gunhee sighs. “Yoosu still thinks it’s gonna be like that new YG show.”

Jooheon is pretty sure Yoosu’s right. The producers have been cagey about the details, but everyone in the company is whispering about it.

“Maybe that’s why they haven’t put us on track for debut yet,” he says. “We’re gonna do it through the show, or something. That’s how your cousin did it, right?”

“Yeah,” Gunhee says, almost too quietly for him to hear. “But there’s twelve of us, Jooheon.”

Jooheon doesn’t know what to say. The four of them - well, Hyunwoo’s probably the most ready, but Hoseok and he and Gunhee are all ready. He thinks they are. He doesn’t know why the company would have so many stages scheduled for them if they weren’t.

“Whatever it is,” he says, half-believing himself, “whatever they’re planning, we just have to stick it out together.”

 _You and me_ , he doesn’t say. He wants the best for everyone, he really does.

“Maybe it won’t be that bad,” Gunhee says, sounding about as sure as Jooheon feels.

He pulls the blankets tighter over them. “Yeah,” he breathes out, closing his eyes. “Maybe.”

**

“Can you tell us a little more about your relationship with #GUN?” the producer asks.

Jooheon tries not to look surprised. This hadn’t been on the script they’d given him.

“Well,” he says, slowly. “We’re in the same group - we’re in charge of rap in NuBoyz.”

She exchanges a look with the cameraman. “Besides that,” she says. “During the preliminary filming, we noticed you two are always together. I assume you’re close.”

Jooheon thinks about Gunhee pressing him into the mattress, Gunhee’s breath hot on his throat, the taste of Gunhee’s sweat on his tongue and the marks on Jooheon’s thighs from his teeth. 

He thinks about the arch of Gunhee’s back and the bob in his throat and the way his cheeks hollow around Jooheon’s cock, the way his nostrils flare and his eyes squeeze shut when he’s trying not to moan out loud. 

He thinks about gentle touches on the sides of his face, sleepy whispers from Gunhee’s lips against his own, soft hair tickling under his chin in the morning and the ugly feeling in his chest when he has to pull away and climb back under his own cold sheets. 

He thinks about Gunhee’s laugh, bright and alive, Gunhee’s fingers seeking his and squeezing after a killer set, Gunhee’s eyes meeting his knowingly when a couple with a baby passes them on the street. 

He thinks about falling asleep in the van with Gunhee’s pinky finger linked with his under a backpack and a jacket.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “We’re close.”

**

“Who would win, in a rap battle between you two?” the producer asks.

Jooheon and Kwangji look at each other. “Um,” Jooheon says.

“He’d destroy me,” Kwangji grins. “No competition.”

“Come on,” Jooheon says, not really protesting.

“I think I’d just give up,” Kwangji says. “It would be less embarrassing that way.”

“You’re putting me under a lot of pressure, you know,” Jooheon laughs. “Damn.”

Kwangji chuckles. “You can handle it.”

“What about Jooheon and Yoonho?” the producer asks Kwangji.

“Oh,” Jooheon says, shaking his head. “Let’s not. That’s not really…”

“Jooheon and #GUN, then?”

Kwangji looks at his shoes, then looks at Jooheon. “Well.”

“I don’t know,” Jooheon says. The producer raises her eyebrows.

“It depends on the subject,” Kwangji offers. “#GUN’s good at freestyle.”

“He is,” Jooheon agrees.

The producer cocks her head. She’s looking for a different answer. Jooheon’s stomach rolls uneasily.

“Let’s say your company senior Mad Clown is judging. Who do you think he would pick, to win a rap battle between you two?”

This is colossally unfair. Kwangji bites his lip.

“He’d pick me,” Jooheon says, trying to keep his tone light. “So, I guess I’d win.”

The producer nods, then signals to the cameraman. “That’s okay,” she says, indicating they’ve wrapped filming whatever this was meant to be. “We’ll just make it clearer in the script next time. You did well.”

“Thank you,” Jooheon says. His words sound flat, even to him. The producer doesn’t comment, or appear to care at least, but that doesn’t make him feel any better.

**

“Let’s just run away,” he tells Gunhee, when they’re out on a snack run later that night. “Do you want to? Let’s just say ‘fuck it’ and leave.”

“Okay,” Gunhee laughs. “Can we take Minhyuk hyung his shrimp chips first? I think he might hunt us down if we don’t.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Jooheon agrees. “We’ll leave them outside the dorm, ring the bell and run.”

“Where are we going?” Gunhee asks, eyes twinkling. 

Jooheon considers it. “San Francisco,” he decides. His mom has a book of pictures from the city she keeps on the shelf with her cookbooks. The pages are all covered in fingerprints from Jooheon sitting on the floor and poring over it as a child while she cooked dinner, touching the brightly colored photographs like he could reach through the pages and feel the buildings under his fingertips.

“The Bay,” Gunhee acknowledges. “That’d be cool.”

“We can make music there,” Jooheon says, putting Hyunwoo’s drinks in the basket. “Get like, Andre Nickatina to listen to our demo.”

“We can get a place with a view of the ocean,” Gunhee says. “And a studio. And a really big fluffy dog.”

“A retriever,” Jooheon says. “We can take it for walks on the beach.”

“With a bluetooth in, for when E-40 calls with a new feature track,” Gunhee says, grinning. “Yeah, I like the sound of this.”

“You and me, up in one of those tall painted houses.” Jooheon grabs a few noodle bowls, not paying much attention to flavors. “Riding the streetcar to work. Staying out in the sun all weekend.”

“Sounds nice,” Gunhee says. “I’m in. Let’s chuck this crap at the door and book it.”

“Okay,” Jooheon nods. The energy drinks that Kihyun likes aren’t on any of the shelves. Maybe he can convince Minkyun or Yoonho to go out and check a different store later.

“You know,” Gunhee says, voice low and soft at his shoulder. “If we did live in San Francisco, we could. You know.”

Jooheon’s chest feels oddly weightless, he exhales hard without meaning to. Truth be told, he hadn’t actually thought that far into it - the rainbow flags and parades hadn’t made it into his mother’s book. He doesn’t know that he’d necessarily want that entire lifestyle - if it’s anything like they show in the movies, anyways. It probably isn’t.

But they _could_.

“Would you,” he starts, feeling something catch in his voice. “Would you want to?”

Gunhee shrugs. “Why not? If it’s no big deal. Besides, then we could have as many kids as we want. We could have a whole soccer team, like Brad and Angelina.”

His tone is playful, but the glance he cuts Jooheon is anything but.

Jooheon is too tired and too dizzy with stress to respond in an appropriately lighthearted manner, so he stays quiet as they go up to the register. Gunhee doesn’t say anything else about it, but he doesn’t take his eyes of Jooheon, either.

“You okay?” he asks once they’re outside.

“Ah,” Jooheon sighs. “Yeah. Just the schedule...but I shouldn’t complain, probably.”

“It’s a lot,” Gunhee agrees, stepping around a crack in the sidewalk. “I guess we’ll get used to it.” He licks his lips. “Idols do.”

Jooheon’s heartbeat kicks up a notch.

“Hey,” Gunhee says. “If it doesn’t work out, we’ll always have San Francisco. Pretty solid fallback option.”

Jooheon laughs. “Maybe we can do both,” he says, bumping his shoulder against Gunhee’s. “Get rich and famous, and then go international.”

“Oh,” Gunhee nods, leaning into him. “That sounds perfect. Let’s go with that.”

The dongsaengs are all asleep in a pile in the living room when they get back, so they end up having to go back out to get Kihyun’s drinks anyways. It’s getting cold out, but Gunhee’s voice is warm, and so is his mouth when Jooheon kisses him in an alley next to the convenience store, and under a tree in a dimly lit park on the way back, and softer, more closely, under a window awning by the back door of their dorm, blanketed by darkness and the hum of nearby traffic. 

If Kihyun notices how long the trip takes them, he doesn’t say anything.

***


End file.
